


Crash Landing

by Nyxelestia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: AU, Agents of SHIELD, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Soldiers, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Nightmares, No that's not a mistake, POV Outsider, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, SHIELD, Social Media, Sokovia Accords, Spies, Steve Friendly, Tony Friendly, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxelestia/pseuds/Nyxelestia
Summary: "You could've left me there," Adrian murmured, jerking his head back towards the burning beach in the distance. "For Stark and his DODC people to find me. Liz and Doris' lives would've actually fallen apart with my arrest, and all my work to take care of them would've gone to waste. You could've just left me there...but you didn't. So I'll make you another deal."Peter clenched his hands, fists shaking hard. "I'm giving you a second chance - but if you go back to what you were doing...I can't make any promises.""It would be stupid of me to expect you to, after all this," Adrian said. He looked at Peter, at the hints of bruises and all the blood. He had trouble reconciling this fragile-looking kid with the superhuman who's been destroying his business, his daughter's homecoming date with the boy he'd nearly killed. "That's not my deal. My deal is, we both walk away, and neither of us say a word about any of this to Liz. Anything else - we'll cross those bridges as we come to them."Swallowing, the boy nodded.Instead of gift-wrapping the Vulture for Happy to find, Peter lets Mr. Toomes go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently, I have learned nothing and am starting yet another fanfic. This is mostly [Zelos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Zelos/pseuds/Zelos) and [Lizzen's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen) faults. :P
> 
> This story has multiple, almost all outsider, POVs. If a name is **bold** at the beginning of a scene, then it's from that character's POV.
> 
>  
> 
> More tags to come. I'll be taking a lot of my cues from Ultimate Comics, and overall this fic will be a bit on the dark side. ~~How dark that actually _means_ remains to be seen.~~

When **Adrian** thought he was about to die, he saw his daughter's Homecoming date stumbling towards him through the flames.

This ridiculous little boy who wasn't even as tall or as old as his Gumdrop crouched down to pick up the wreckage of Adrian's wings. He hefted it up and tossed the gigantic piece of machinery away.

The boy looked desperate and determined, and Adrian was sure he was coming to finish the job that the explosion didn't.

Yet at the same time, he wasn't surprised when the boy hauled Adrian over his shoulder and ran back out towards the open sand.

Adrian wasn't a big guy, but he wasn't a small one, either. For a brief moment, when his vision blurred and his entire body moved without him, he thought it was a head injury kicking in. It'd been so long since anyone had lifted him up that it took him a few minutes to recognize the sensation.

The kid's bony shoulder dug into Adrian's stomach as he carried a full-grown man through the flaming wreckage. Blinking at the blurring ground, Adrian wondered if this was how Liz felt when he used to toss her over his shoulder to make her laugh.

Once they were clear of the flames, the kid fell forward, dropping Adrian onto his back while collapsing into the sand beside him.

For a few moments, they lay there like that, breaths not coming easy for either of them. Between the smoke, the yelling, and all the bruises Adrian could already feel forming on his body, his throat and lungs burned.

It was strange, that the teenager he'd been trying to kill just minutes before was now lying on the ground beside him. The kid couldn't suppress his whimpers, and flinched when Adrian's arm brushed against his.

Adrian could still hear the whimpering even when Peter pushed himself up, stood up and towered over him.

Christ. Only fifteen years old, a high-school _sophomore_ , and all Adrian could do was lay there and stare at the boy, wondering what he'd do next.

Only fifteen years old, but superhuman, somehow. Everyone knew that. From the feats of strengths and speed Spider-Man achieved, to the fact the kid was still even conscious after everything Adrian had just done to him, there was no missing it. There was blood all over the kid's face and he'd be blooming with bruises, soon. Given the number of times Adrian dropped him from lethal heights - not to mention dropped a goddamn building on him - this kid shouldn't even be alive right now, let alone walking.

But walk, he did. Meanwhile, Adrian coughed and writhed in pain in the sand. He'd been the one to land most of the hits dealt that night, but the explosion had made up for it. He might've even had a broken rib.

He wondered if he'd broken any of the kid's bones.

If he had, Peter showed no signs of it. Adrian blinked through the ash in the air as Peter shoved boxes around, and all the strewn technology in with them. With all the boxes pushed together, he aimed his wrist at them in a move Adrian had seen countless times on the news and social media. Peter made several motions with nothing happening. Then he pulled... _something_ off his wrists, and fiddled around with them. A moment later, he aimed his wrist again, and this time, that weird web stuff came out. With the boxes wrapped together in his crazy webbing and Adrian's wings now little more than scrap metal, everything was completely out of his reach even if he were to press his hands right up against the boxes.

He frowned in confusion when Peter stumbled into the burning wreckage of the plane. Then he wanted to laugh when Peter came back out with a clipboard and a marker. Likely the cargo manifest, though who the hell knew why a guy as digital as Stark had paper on his plane. Or a marker, for that matter.

Still, he watched as Peter wrote something on the back of a page of the manifest. Adrian snorted, remembering all those pictures of Spider-Man's notes that Liz kept showing him on Instagram. When Peter pinned it to the boxes, Adrian squinted at it.

_Found the flying Vulture guy,_ it read. _-Spider-Man. P.S. Sorry about your plane._

He couldn't help it - he laughed. Laying there flat on his back, after having beaten and been beaten up by his daughter's Homecoming date, and surrounded by the burning wreckage of his life, Adrian Toomes _laughed_.

The laughter only died down when it aggravated whatever was hurting on the side of his chest. He was trying to suppress his sob-like laughter when the teenage, superhuman brat trudged back to his side.

Looming over Adrian, Peter's jaw clenched. He looked around them at all the burning boxes and machinery, before looking back down at Adrian.

"What..." Peter's voice cracked, and Adrian couldn't tell whether that was because of all the smoke inhalation or because he was fifteen. Or both. "What," he said, trying again, voice a little firmer this time. "Were you going to say, when Liz and..." He waved his hand, and through the flailing, Adrian's gaze caught on the tears in the kid's glove. "When Liz and Ms. Allan found out?"

Props to the kid on remembering that Doris' last name wasn't his.

Though given the spots of blood Adrian could see glistening in his hair, it was a miracle the kid was even speaking, let alone remembering anything.

"They were never-" Adrian coughed, rolling over so he was on his side. "Never supposed to." He hurt just _thinking_ about sitting up, and this damn kid was _standing_ over him.

He wondered what the kid had expected to hear. He must've expected something much better, or much worse, because the kid looked ready to cry. He looked over to the side, and Adrian followed his gaze over to the plane. In the rising heat waves from the flaming boxes and the crash-heated sand, the plane almost looked like a mirage.

It sure as hell felt like one, right now - so close, yet so far.

"...a lot of people could've been hurt," Peter said. Adrian realized he wasn't looking at the wreckage, but past it, towards Coney Island.

"No one would've been hurt if you'd taken up my offer!" Adrian snapped.

Peter narrowed his eyes down at Adrian. "Tonight, no. Tomorrow, when these weapons were in the hands of criminals?"

Adrian snorted. Why the hell was this kid working for Stark when he sounded as sanctimonious as Captain America?

"You really believe you're not a bad guy?" Peter asked. "You threatened to kill me, kill everyone I love. And you just admitted you never wanted your family to find out what you were doing."

Rough rock and shards of hot glass slid through Adrian's leather-gloved fingers as he clenched his fist in the fire-stormed sand. He finally found the angry energy he needed to push himself up until he was at least sitting, glaring up at the kid.

"Good guy, bad guy," Adrian sneered. "Is that still how you see the world? This is why they don't allow child soldiers! It isn't about good or bad. I'm sure you'd do anything to protect your friends or your family." With a saccharine smile, he said, "An aunt, right? Liz mentioned. Just you and your aunt."

"Yeah," Peter said, his own fists clenching at his side. He was about to tear through that flimsy mask if his grip looked as tough as it felt. Adrian's hand hurt remembering Peter's grip when they shook hands barely two hours ago. "Used to be my uncle, too, but he was shot dead by a mugger right in front of me."

Adrian blinked up at him.

Well, that explained what the hell drove a fifteen-year-old to risk his life on a regular basis to try and help people, superpowers aside.

"You'd do anything for the family you have left, wouldn't you?" Adrian said, and smirked at Peter's hesitant look. "Like I'd do anything for mine." He shook his head, leaning back on his arms a bit, like this was a sunny afternoon on the beach with his family, instead of the battleground it was. "I'm not a 'good' guy or a 'bad' guy, because this is the real world. I'm just a guy trying to take care of my family, after so-called 'heroes' like Stark made that impossible."

"You really believe that?" Peter asked, looking like he sure as hell didn't.

Adrian laughed. "After the DODC stole my job-"

"'Stole your job'?" Peter demanded. He gestured around himself, towards all the flaming wreckage. " _That's_ what you're going with?"

"I had a contract to salvage all the alien technology, _legally_ ," Adrian explained. "I hired new crew, bought new equipment... I invested in an entire new business. I was ready to use all that new science and technology to change the world for the better, and give Liz and Doris the life they deserved. Until Stark's goons and the government swooped in and took over everything. They demanded we turn over what we already had, and refused to let us continue. Their 'contract termination' compensation couldn't even recoup the cost of the new equipment, let alone take care of our families. So everything I was doing to do legally, I just...kept doing... _illegally_."

"...people lose money all the time," Peter said. "Not everyone turns to _arms dealing_ to deal with it-"

"And look at what happens to them!" Adrian yelled. "I wasn't gonna let some bullshit 'superheroes' or their cronies destroy us like that. Stark and his pals made that goddamn mess and then got paid to clean it up-"

"Paid?!" Peter asked incredulously. "Who the hell is paying them? Because Stark gave back way more to the city than he got."

"Yeah, and he got all that alien technology," Adrian sneered. "All for himself."

"All for _no one_ ," Peter said. "It goes into a vault and no one touches it, not even Mr. Stark! I've seen it."

"All that technology which could change the world," Adrian continued. "Look at all I built with that, kid."

"I am," Peter said. "I'm looking at the weapons you built that help people steal, that hurt innocent people-"

"Because criminals are the only ones buying illegal technology!" Adrian snapped. "If I could do all this above board, make things to help people, I'd do it in a heartbeat! But no. Us regular humans are just supposed to clean up from alien invasions and robot battles, and not even make the most of those messes!"

Peter's jaw clenched. Even on a baby face like his, that expression was a little bit terrifying.

"You wanna know what happened at the Washington Monument?" Peter asked. "I was trying to figure out what the hell was in the weapon your guys were using against me. And it was unstable. Your technology put your daughter's life in danger-"

"You mean _you_ did," Adrian said, blood boiling as more of this bizarre puzzle started to fall into place. God, he remembered his heart damn near pounding out of rib-cage when he'd watched the news on the incident. He and his crew had only been watching in the first place because of Spider-Man. Adrian didn't think he'd ever felt a greater sense of simultaneous terror and relief when the news coverage revealed his baby girl had been one of the people in danger at the monument - and one of the people Spider-Man had saved. "You brought that core-"

"Because I was trying to stop the guy selling that crap to criminals!" Peter said. "If it wasn't an unstable core putting _your_ daughter in danger, it would've been a weapon putting someone _else's_ daughter in danger."

"That isn't my problem," Adrian sneered. "I already tried to work for the better and by the book, and that would've ruined my family if I'd played along."

To his surprise, the chattermouth didn't respond right away.

Peter had been on the quiet side all night. At first, Adrian had chalked that up to a nervous boy meeting his date's dad, then to the realization of who he was and what he knew. Either way, it didn't match up to all the YouTube clips and social media about the leotard-clad motor-mouth who stopped petty crime and helped with dangerous accidents around Queens with a sense of humor. He was a do-gooder of New York, save one appearance on the other side of the world to face off against half the Avengers.

...now there was a thought.

"For god's sake," Adrian said. "Why do you think Captain America was against the Sokovia Accords? It was to keep megalomaniacs like Stark from preventing people trying to do good."

"You think selling weapons to criminals is 'good'?" Peter demanded.

"No," Adrian said. He had no delusions the morality of his actions.

Pointing at the superheated scrap metal that used to be Adrian's wings, Peter said, "You just wanted money for your family. Everyone does! You're not actually any different from Mr. Stark, both of you made and sold weapons that were used to hurt innocent people!" Then, laughing as he ran his hands through his hair, he added, "And Mr. Stark actually stopped making weapons-"

"You think Iron Man isn't a weapon?" Adrian demanded.

Peter's chest was shuddering in the overheated night. "He stopped making most of them. He went after what was left, he cleaned up his own messes - which is way more than I can say for you."

Adrian stared at him incredulously.

Then, he couldn't help it: he burst out laughing.

"You...you really think..." He gestured yet again, at his wings - and then swept his arm at everything else around them, all of which was Stark's. "You think I'm anything like him?"

Peter looked around him. The flames were already starting to die out - or maybe they were just getting used to the heat and the smoke and the smell.

Looking almost speculative, the boy narrowed his eyes at Adrian, then shook his head...and reached a hand out.

"Not yet," Peter said. "But you could be."

Adrian stared, dumbfounded. But knowing what must be coming, he accepted it. Peter hauled him up like Adrian was a baby. Given what he'd seen of Spider-Man's strength, Adrian probably _did_ weigh almost nothing to Peter. Despite the boy's own stumbling and shaking, he helped Adrian stand up. When Adrian's knees started to buckle, he swung Adrian's arm over his shoulders, and started to walk.

_Away_ from the firey wreck.

"What...?" he asked, stumbling along as Peter all but dragged him across the beach and towards Luna Park.

"You're right about one thing," Peter said. "Mr. Stark used to sell weapons, and made a lot of money off of them." He grunted as he cleared the edge of the disaster area. Away from the crackling flames and collapsing metal, Adrian could hear approaching sirens. "But he also stopped, and changed, and made things for the better."

Adrian hoped that the sand was stirred up enough to hide their dragging footsteps from the plane towards the roller-coaster.

After a moment and a lifetime of stumbling through the dark towards the Cyclone, they finally hit solid ground. At the edge of the paved street, Peter propped Adrian up against a chainlink fence.

"Mr. Stark changed for the better," Peter said. "And I'm pretty sure you can, too." With a wry smile, he said, "I have a hard time imagining that the guy who raised Liz _can't._ "

Adrian looked at the distance Peter had just dragged them both over.

"You're covering for me," Adrian said, realization dawning. "But you - left a note. Saying you found me."

Peter blinked a few times, as if he'd forgotten. Maybe he had. Head injuries could take a while to show up, and were insidious before then.

However, the boy shrugged. "Well, how was I supposed to know the Vulture would wake up and walk away? Or that he could get out of my webbing even without the wings?"

Adrian laughed.

He laughed so hard his chest seared in pain as he moved whatever he'd hurt at some point in the night.

He slumped against the fence, hissing as he moved whatever rib was broken.

Clinging to the wire with hands covered in Peter's blood, he asked, "What's Mr. Stark gonna say about all this?" He jerked his chin at Peter's outfit. "I know that's not what you were wearing last time we met. And I doubt I could've done enough damage to your fancy suit in one fight to warrant you losing it." He tilted his head. "Stark take it away from you?"

"What makes you think he could?" Peter asked defensively. He actually sounded like a teenager for the first time since he climbed into Adrian's car...less than two hours ago, assuming his watch was still working under the cracked face. He was pretty sure driving from home to Midtown Tech took longer than this entire fight.

"Because Liz has been obsessed with Spider-Man since a few weeks after that first video of you played on CNN," Adrian said. "Everyone noticed that your suit changed after you helped Stark fight the other half of the Avengers in Germany. If he gave it to you, he could take it away - and it looks like he did."

Peter actually smiled. It looked both out of place and perfectly at home on his pale, bruised, and bloodied face.

"I was Spider-Man before he gave me a fancy suit," Peter said. "I can keep being Spider-Man without him."

"He really just took everything away from you?" he asked. "And left you - what, completely defenseless?"

Peter shrugged again. _Teenagers_ , ugh. "Well, if I'd been in a real emergency, I could've called him." With a sharp, broken smile, he added, "Unless, of course, I happened to have accidentally left my phone in my date's dad's car when he dropped us off at Homecoming."

Adrian's eyebrows shot up as he realized how the kid had been able to find him that night, without Stark tech on his side.

The pieces fell into place, and despite how much it hurt, he laughed again. "Damn," he said. "I...really underestimated you. You never once even thought about taking me up on my offer, did you?"

Peter shook his head without hesitation.

"Like I said," Adrian reiterated, gesturing towards the far edge of the beach, where he could already see police cruisers pulling up to the edge of the sand. They were too far away to see him and Peter hiding by the Cyclone. "I can see why Liz likes you."

At that, Peter's expression dimmed. "Well, not for much longer. I had to ditch her at the dance to come after you."

Adrian looked this kid up and down.

He had no delusions about what a sophomore boy would feel at landing a date with a senior girl, especially one as beautiful and fantastic as his Gumdrop. He knew damn well what it meant that Peter left her, anyway, to chase after an arms dealer - on the night of their first date at a big dance, no less.

And if it weren't for the fact this kid just destroyed his business and livelihood, he really would like Peter.

He knew how much Liz _did_ like Peter. She played those cards close to her chest - any teenage girl would, when talking about boys with her parents - but even Adrian could read between the lines.

He wondered how heartbroken his Gumdrop was right now, or would be at the end of the night.

Unless it was prevented.

"I can't believe this..." he muttered. He looked down at his presumably-still-working watch. "I dropped you two off at the dance...a bit over an hour ago. If all her plans pan out like she expects them to, that dance will be going for at least three more."

Peter's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, looking as incredulous as Adrian felt.

"You could've left me there," Adrian murmured, jerking his head back towards the burning beach in the distance. "For Stark and his DODC people to find me. Liz and Doris' lives would've actually fallen apart with my arrest, and all my work to take care of them would've gone to waste. You could've just left me there...but you didn't. So I'll make you another deal."

Peter clenched his hands, fists shaking so hard they seemed to almost flicker in and out of existence in the shadows of the Cyclone. "I'm giving you a second chance - but if you go back to what you were doing...I can't make any promises. I won't."

Adrian sighed, for a moment resting his head against the fence.

"...I guess it would be stupid of me to expect you to, after all this," he said, glancing over at the burning plane. This far away, it looked so small and yet so big at the same time. He and Peter had both been in the middle of that, had caused it. He looked at Peter, seeing the hints of bruises and all the blood. He had trouble reconciling this fragile-looking kid with the superhuman who's been destroying his business, his daughter's homecoming date with the boy he'd nearly killed. "That's not my deal. My deal is, we both walk away, and neither of us say a word about any of this to Liz. Anything else - we'll cross those bridges as we come to them."

Swallowing, the boy nodded.

To the boy's credit, he didn't say another word. Instead, he hopped over the fence like it was nothing. Despite still suffering from the wounds inflicted by the boy, Adrian marveled that kind of casual strength and agility. He watched in wariness - and a bit of hidden awe - as the boy shot a single line of webbing up to the top of the Cyclone, and swung away.

He had no idea what he was going to say to Mason and Schultz, or how he was going to take care of Liz and Doris going forward. He thanked a god he no longer believed in that he hadn't told Schultz the whole truth about Spider-Man. Hoping Peter would do the smart thing, he'd only told Schultz that he'd given the superhero an offer, but might be outside the school. The man who always had chocolate on hand whenever he came to Adrian's home had been okay with letting the kid walk away - he'd watched Spider-Man save Liz on the news, too. But after Brice, Adrian hadn't wanted to take any undue risks.

(He made a mental note to make sure Peter never found out Adrian killed a man.)

Peter was covering him, but in order for any of this to work, Adrian knew he'd have to return the favor.

As far as Liz and Doris knew, he was going to be on his business trip for a few days. Even if all New York flights were grounded because of this chaos, he had some time before he had to face them again. While most of the crew had long since abandoned him, Mason and Schultz were loyal and tough, and had weathered through some tough times at his side. Whether they would disband this entire operation and go their separate ways, or come up with some new plan together, they'd had his backs and he'd do his best to have theirs.

But none of that was going to get solved tonight, especially if he stayed around here long enough for the FBI and DODC guys to see him.

Shaking his head - at superheroes, teenagers, and _both_ \- Adrian turned and started limping away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies if this chapter seems rather slow. It was originally the first half/third of a much longer chapter. I split up the chapter to be able to update faster, but that left mostly transition scenes in this update.

Of course, it was right when **Liz** had finally given up hope on Peter that he showed up again.

Looking terrible.

Liz had spent two hours staving off tears as she tried to figure out why Peter just left her like that - from tears of confusion, to tears of sorrow, to the leaking her eyes did when she got angry enough.

But when she saw Peter sidling up to her by the punch table - in his rumpled suit, his disheveled hair soaked through with sweat, and with an actual _bruise_ on his face - her first reaction was, "What the hell _happened_ to you?"

Peter flinched, the motion exaggerated by the dance's playful lighting.

"I got sick," he said.

"'You got sick'?" Liz repeated, incredulous. "You have a bruise on your cheek!" Peter seemed to shrink even further into his tux, the one which now fit him quite strangely, instead of handsomely like it had less than two hours ago.

With a wince, he added, "Hiding in the bathroom didn't help."

Liz crossed her arms. "And why, exactly, did you hide in the bathroom?" she demanded. "Without telling me a damn thing? I've been calling and texting, and Ned disappeared and seriously, what's been going on with you?" Looking him up and down, she asked him the most obvious question: "Are you on drugs?"

Peter's eyes widened enough that for a second, Liz was sure hit the nail right on the head.

"No!" he yelped, loud enough for the nearby huddle of basketball girls to glance over. Peter lowered his voice and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - I was gonna explain but I was puking and then I was standing up and I slipped on something and fell and I blacked out and when I woke up I couldn't come back out because..."

It took Liz a minute untangle his word vomit.

(And then another to try and get rid of the mental image of his actual vomit).

"You left me alone for nearly two hours because you were embarrassed?!" Liz demanded.

Peter winced.

"...I was worried about everybody," he mumbled. He opened his mouth, closed it, then added, "And I was going to, like, call you or text you or something, but I can't find my phone. I think I may've left it in your dad's car or something."

Liz facepalmed.

She did her best to recall her coaching book. Which she shouldn't need for a date, but she couldn't think of anything else.

Still, thinking from the other person's shoes was important.

At least Peter was trying to do that much. "I'll get out of your hair," he said. "And you should spend the night with your friends, who can actually give you a good time. I just..." He swallowed. "I just wanted to explain, and say I'm sorry." Then, after a beat, he added, "And, um, Ned's using his phone to talk to his parents, and since I don't...have my phone..."

Hands shaking and blood boiling, Liz held up a finger to make him pause, then turned around.

_Deep breaths,_ she thought to herself, counting in her head. She breathed in time with the rhythm of the music. By the time she was done, she felt like she could actually listen to Camila Cabello and _not be cryin' in the club_.

She turned back around. Peter looked almost ready to cry - and ready to throw up again.

"Thank you, for finally coming out here and explaining yourself," she ground out. Then, still feeling hurt and humiliated about being stood-up, she grumbled, "Even if you took two hours to do it."

Peter shrunk into his suit even more.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I just - Flash already calls me Penis Parker just for existing, can you imagine what he'd do if he knew I got beaten up by a toilet?"

She opened her mouth to retort, then blinked as a terrible realization sunk in.

"Is that..." She swallowed. "Is that why you left my party so fast?"

Peter looked down at his shoes. "I didn't..." He shrugged. "Flash is your friend, and...I figured you only invited me out of pity."

Taking a shaky breath, Liz said, "I didn't." She paused. "That's...actually why I was so upset," she said.

_No one is a mind-reader,_ she recalled reading. _So explain what you were thinking._

"I had a plan, that night," she admitted. "For you. And then you disappeared, and I just..."

She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Betty shooting them some concerned glances. She waved her off.

Then, she glared at the back of Flash's head, despite the fact he was still freaking out about his car too much to notice anything else in the world - not even his own date.

Turning away from him, Liz reached out and grabbed Peter's hand. He looked kinda shocked, and she smiled. _Still got it._

"I had a plan," she repeated. "Except I got so focused on my party, and...I didn't expect you to leave so fast." With a swallow, she added, "But I don't blame you. If someone was making fun of me over the speakers and I thought the host didn't actually want me there, I would've left, too." She squeezed his hand. "For what it's worth, I told Flash to knock it off, and he didn't mention you again for the rest of the night."

Peter looked up at her. He looked so, _so_ hopeful, that even through her simmering anger at her abandonment, she also felt sorry that he was shocked she would stand up for him.

"Besides, karma kinda bit Flash in the butt, tonight," she continued, caught between latent shame for taking so long to stop a bully at her own party, and her latent anger at Peter for ditching her. "I'm only sorry you missed it."

Peter frowned. "Missed what?"

"Spider-Man showed up," she said. "According to the people who saw it, he took Flash's car and phone."

To her surprise, rather than looking cheerful, Peter flinched. "R-really?"

"Relax," Liz said, with a reassuring hand-squeeze. "He's too busy bragging about the fact Spider-Man knew his name and..." She paused. "Actually, wait - you said you knew him?"

Peter swallowed. "Technically, _Ned_ did," he mumbled. He looked over at Flash - who was waving his arms around as he told the story of getting carjacked by Spider-Man for like the three-dozenth time that night - then looked back at Liz. With a sheepish wince and a quick jerk of his head towards Flash, he said, "That...might be my fault."

It took her a moment to parse what he was saying.

"Wait - you talked to Spider-Man about Flash?"

"I..." He sighed. "No one's even supposed to know about it. I didn't even tell Ned, he found out by accident. And the very next day, he shouted it across the gym."

Liz frowned. "Does that have to do with why you left the internship?"

Peter winced again.

"...or did you lose the internship?" she said, starting to get an inkling of what was going on with Peter.

He looked down again, this time at her shoes.

"It's complicated, and I'm not supposed to talk about it," he said, sounding actually hoarse. "No one was ever supposed to know about any of this."

Liz nodded. "I'll bet." Dad barely even liked talking about his business with _her_ \- she imagined Stark Industries would be a lot stricter with a mere intern.

"Listen," she said, pulling her own phone out of the hidden pocket in the skirt of her dress. "How about I call my mom to give us a ride home?"

Peter's eyes widened as his gaze snapped back up to her own. "No!" he protested. "You shouldn't have to leave the dance early because I'm an asshole."

With a reluctantly grateful, she then asked, "But I take it you don't want to stay the night?"

Peter shook his head. "I...if I could borrow your phone so I can call my aunt? Please?"

With a nod, she handed it over to him, and he slunk back into the hallway as he dialed.

She shook her head, and went over to the snack stand to get a soda for them each. "Two cokes, please," she said to the boy running it. She paused, then said, "Actually, on second thought, a Coke and a ginger-ale, please." Ginger-ale might help settle Peter's stomach.

He nodded, cracking open the cans and pouring them into lightly-iced plastic martini glasses for her, and topping them off with a single cherry, each.

She grabbed the filled cups and turned around, unsurprised to see Michelle waiting for her.

"He's sick," Liz said, even as Michelle opened her mouth to ask for an explanation. "He passed out in the bathroom, that's why he was gone so long."

Michelle raised an eyebrow. "Sick or 'sick'?" she asked, complete with air-quotes.

Liz rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't smell any booze on him. And he looked so embarrassed - I'm pretty sure he was being honest." She shrugged. "He left his phone in my dad's car, so he's using mine to call his aunt. I'll sit with him until he leaves."

"Suit yourself," she said with a shrug.

Five minutes later, Peter sidled back in - Ned in tow - saying, "Love you too," into the phone before hanging up.

"Thank you," Peter said, handing the phone back to Liz. "She, um, she says she'll be here in about half an hour." With a wan smile, he said, "For me and Ned."

At her surprise, Ned added, "I got caught hanging out in the computer lab instead of here. Figure it would be safer to go home before Ms. Warren can give me detention for it."

Liz nodded. Holding up the drinks, she said, "Let's go sit outside."

She'd actually only been talking to Peter, but Ned started to follow, too. Liz was trying to think of a polite way to ask for a few moments alone, but Peter looked like he was leaning his weight on Ned.

Also, she caught the way Michelle's expression went from masked cheer to carefully blank.

So instead, she looked back at the other girl and said, "Coming with us?"

Michelle smiled for a minute, before she caught herself and affected a haughtier expression. "Since I got nothing else to do."

Liz shook her head in wry amusement as she headed out, Ned and Peter trailing behind her. Michelle got two more drinks and followed them.

It was like stepping from a furnace to a fridge, the way the outdoor air felt after the stuffy gym. That was probably why there were a lot of other people here, too. They went down the front steps and over to the ledge on the other side of the front walk, picking an empty spot by the end of the path of balloons. They'd be able to see his aunt as soon as she entered the gates.

For a moment, the four of them sat there, awkwardly sipping at their drinks.

Then Michelle asked, "So are you actually sick, or are you on drugs?"

Peter's eyes widened. "I'm not on drugs!" he protested.

He sounded so indignant, and his eyes were so wide, that Liz couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I'm not!" he insisted, turning his angry puppy expression onto her.

"I-I belie-eve you!" Liz said through her laughter. "But your _face_ -!"

"What's wrong with my face?" Peter protested.

That broke the ice.

Michelle started teasing the boys, making fun of Ned's hat, and generally failed to use her tremendous social intelligence. As Michelle and Ned got more animated in their arguing about fashion, Peter eased up from leaning on Ned - and started to lean on her, instead.

This wasn't her plan, the one she worked out, with Mom and then Betty and then Michelle as sounding boards.

This wasn't a careful arrangement of fast dances to get their blood pumping, then party games and talking, capped off with a slow dance - or two - and a shadowy corner for their first kiss.

This wasn't her plan - but it was still nice.

Michelle grabbed the hat off of Ned's head and ran off with it. Yelping, Ned lumbered after her. Peter leaned his head on Liz's shoulder as they watched the two chase each other on the front lawn of the school, darting between all the other kids taking a break from the dancing and the party games.

"This is nice," she said, because she and Peter needed to communicate better.

Peter practically nuzzled into her shoulder with a whimper, but also laced his fingers through hers and said, "Yeah, it...it is."

She looked down at the cups on the ground. Peter'd drained his Sprite. Now it was just a cup of ice lurking by his feet with a cherry stem on top, the one that he'd tied into a knot _with his tongue_.

"Hey, Peter," she said, reaching up with her free hand to tilt his chin.

"Yeah..." he said, trailing off as he realized she was looking at him - and his lips.

She moved slowly, closing her eyes and giving him a chance to move away.

He didn't.

Not even when she pressed her lips to his, or when both their lips parted that slightest bit.

But he _did_ taste like cherry and Sprite.

Peter gasped, but kissed back. Just once, a perfect once. They leaned their foreheads against each other, breathing the same air. Then she pulled away, opening her eyes, and smiled at his completely dumbfounded expression. Even with his face pale, a bruised cheek, and eyes reddened like he'd been crying, he looked adorable in his awe.

"Really nice," she said, with a grin.

"Uh-huh," he agreed, nodding his head, wide eyes shining in the distant light.

She used her free hand to lay his head on her shoulder again, then laid her head on top of his. Together, they cuddled close as they watched their friends.

Ned had to stop and lean on his knees, breathing so hard that Liz could hear it from all the way over here. Michelle took advantage of his break to take a selfie in his hat, before Ned snatched it off her head and jammed it onto his own. Peter chuckled as Ned actually held onto the hat while trudging back over to where they sat. Snickering to herself, Michelle was tapping away at her phone as she uploaded it somewhere with what Liz was sure would be a subtle and hilarious caption.

"This is my _confidence hat_ ," Ned grumbled as he sat back down on the ledge beside them.

"I heard," Liz said, not containing her grin. The only reason she didn't laugh outright as Michelle meandered up to them, her phone's glare lighting up her face, was because she didn't want to dislodge Peter.

She did that by accident, anyway, when a few moments later, Michelle suddenly shouted, " _Holy shit!_ "

~*~

When Michelle shouted into the night, Peter flailed and nearly fell off the ledge, **Ned** _did_ fall off the ledge, and half the lawn of other kids turned around to stare at them. Ned winced, feeling his face warm under their scrutiny.

Michelle didn't notice any of them.

"What?" Liz asked, wrapping an arm around Peter to stabilize him.

"You're not gonna believe this. The Vulture and Spider-Man just downed a Stark jet full of Avengers stuff!"

Peter froze. Well, not 'froze' so much as went a little limp against Liz's side as she leaned over. Ned stood up, dusting grass off his suit. He shared a look with Peter, before looking down at Michelle's phone.

The video was grainy and the colors were fluttering a little, but that was definitely a plane flying right towards the city.

A New Yorker born and raised after 9/11, Ned's heart leapt into his throat at the sight. Based on the looks on everyone else's faces, he knew he wasn't the only one.

"What..." he said, unable to tear his eyes away from the video. Even if he knew from Peter himself what happened, he couldn't _not_ watch.

Especially when the plane came close enough to the camera that Ned could make out a tiny, red and blue figure on top of it. His heart all but pounded right out of his chest when he saw two thin lines of webbing shoot out, and the small figure pulling with all its might.

Beside him, Peter rubbed his shoulders a little, as his on-screen self pulled at the flaps of the wings on the plane, changing its course and turning away from wherever that camera had been.

The video cut-out.

But Ned's relief was short-lived, because MJ scrolled down to another Tweet.

This video was much shorter. It looked like it might've been taken on a cell-phone camera from a mile away. The color had that grainy quality of a camera zoomed in to the max, but the plane was little more than a clump of dots in the middle of the frame. The shower of sparks from whatever piece of the light tower in Luna Park the plane hit was more like a bright blob. Then he heard a heart-punching _thud_ and a resonating _crash_ that sounded huge even through the phone's speakers. He watched as the plane dragged across the beach, leaving a trail of scrap metal and fire in its wake.

The video ended, and Ned couldn't help but stare at Peter.

How was he still standing? How was he still _alive_?

Thankfully, the girls were so focused on the phone that neither of them noticed the boys looking at each other. Liz took Michelle's phone and started scrolling through it.

"What the hell?" Liz said. Ned twisted a little to peer at the screen over her shoulder. Twitter was flooded with distant, grainy pictures of the entire debacle. "Spider-Man looks like he's in his old costume. There was a building collapse that he was spotted coming out of, him and The Vulture-" Her eyes widened as she read something. "That's near where my dad works!"

Peter winced, and Ned felt his throat close up in memory. The flying vulture guy is Liz's dad.

_Liz's dad_ did all of this.

And Peter had let him go, anyway.

It had seemed like a good idea less than half an hour ago. When Ned was handing Peter the remains of his tux under the stall door in the boys' bathroom, when he'd joked about how he'd recovered from his porn gaffe with Ms. Warren, when Peter was refusing to come out until he was fully dressed because but explaining that he'd stopped the Vulture guy but then let him go, _let Liz's dad go_ -

Ned hadn't known that Peter had let him go after _this_.

"Uh-oh," Liz said. "Flash is gonna flip."

"Flash?" Ned asked, turning his attention back to the phone - only to see a picture of a trashed Audi on the road. The caption said it was cordoned off by the police, right by the collapsed building Spider-Man and the Vulture were seen going into and coming out of.

"You haven't heard?" Michelle asked. "It's the only thing he's been talking about for like the last two hours. Spider-Man showed up, and stole his car and his phone."

Peter winced. "I heard. That..."

"Peter said he'd mentioned Flash to Spider-Man, before he lost the Stark Internship," Liz said, her focus still on the phone.

"Wait, you really do know Spider-Man?" Michelle asked. Then, a moment later, her eyes almost-widened and she added, "And when did you lose the Stark Internship?"

Sighing, Peter mumbled, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"I'm gonna go let Flash know," Liz said, patting Peter's shoulder consolingly before helping him sit up. Ned plopped down on his other side, and Peter slumped against him. Liz pressed a kiss to Peter's temple - much to his weary delight - and jogged off.

"Hey, wait," Michelle said, also standing up and taking off after her. "My phone!"

"I'll be right back!" Liz shouted as she ran towards the front steps of the school. Michelle didn't listen, still going after her.

For a moment, Peter and Ned watched in silence as the two girls ran off.

Then, without looking away from the balloons and streamers by the doors, Ned blurted out, "You let him go after _that_?!"

Peter huffed, bitter humor breezing along Ned's neck.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

Fighting the urge to pull out his own phone and look for even more videos, Ned said, "And _that's_ Liz's dad?"

"...yeah," Peter repeated. Ned felt him shift, and finally looked down. "Kinda why I let him go."

"Nepotism?" Ned asked. No, no way, Peter would never-

"He made some good points," Peter mumbled. "I thought - if a multibillionaire, arms-manufacturing weapons dealer could get a second chance, why can't he?"

"If _who_ could get a second chance!?" Ned asked, super confused.

Peter actually lifted his head from Ned's shoulder to look at him with something between exasperation and disappointment. "Stark. Tony Stark. You remember what he did before he became Iron Man, right?"

Ned just stared.

"Are you saying that you think the Vulture guy can be like Iron Man?" he finally asked.

Shutting his eyes, Peter dropped his head onto Ned's shoulder again.

"I hope so," Peter said. "Because if I'm wrong..." Peter actually curled closer to Ned. "He - he knows who I am. He... _Ned_."

Ned moved so he could lean back a little, wrapping an arm around Peter.

His best friend was strong enough to stop car crashes with his bare hands and fast enough to dodge bullets. But he was also bruised, and beaten, and he sounded terrified when he croaked Ned's name.

"He had a gun with him in the car," Peter said. "Liz thought he was flying out on a business trip. But in his bag, there was a gun. And when Liz went inside, he - he knew. Just from my voice and some of what Liz said, _he knew_."

Ned stared down at the top of Peter's head. "He knows who you are?"

Peter nodded, eyes shut. "He threatened to kill everyone I loved."

He looked up, then, and Ned's heart started pounding as he realized what Peter was saying. _He threatened to kill_ you _._

Swallowing, Ned asked, "But he let you go?"

Peter sniffled bitterly. "Said that he owed me because I saved Liz's life in Washington. That he'd give me one chance to walk away and forget about him, and leave him and his business alone." He actually shivered as he spoke.

It's not like Ned could blame him. Just hearing about this terrified him - and Peter had to live it.

"He threatened to kill us all...and you went after him anyway?" Ned asked.

Peter's eyes flew wide open, and he jerked back, startling Ned. Not expecting the sudden change of weight, Ned nearly fell off the ledge - and _would_ have fallen off if Peter hadn't grabbed him and pulled him back.

Then he hissed in pain, and Ned's gaze dropped to the midsection that Peter was wrapping his arms around.

"I'm sorry," Peter said. Ned looked back up at his face - so pale he was nearly as white as his shirt in the semi-flourescent out-door lighting. His eyes were reddish again, like he was about to cry. He was shaking so hard he looked like he was about to vibrate out of his seat. "I know I put you in danger, but I couldn't - those weapons, Ned. You saw what happened, I couldn't...I couldn't..."

"No, hey, _hey_ ," Ned said, grabbing Peter by the shoulders. He waited until Peter looked him in the eyes. "The glowy-thingy was in my backpack, remember?"

"Because I asked you to keep it," Peter said. To Ned's horror, Peter actually cried - a single tear, but it was there. "You guys were only in danger in the first place because of me."

Ned paused, then said, "But if we hadn't - it would've been someone else. And you wouldn't have been able to save them."

Peter didn't look like he believed him. Ned sighed, and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm your guy in the chair," he said. "I can't ask you to let a criminal go just because I'm in danger."

"No, but I-"

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Ned insisted. "Especially not since the Vulture beat you to it."

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against Ned.

"...how hurt are you?" Ned asked. "Really?"

Opening his eyes again to check on the door, Peter sat up a bit. He undid the bottom button of his jacket, pulling back the bottom hem to reveal the shirt underneath.

The white shirt was speckled with blood.

"What-" Ned swallowed. "I thought you said you were still wearing the suit under it?"

"...I am," Peter admitted.

Ned stared, until Peter dropped the flap and rebuttoned his jacket. He winced as he remembered Peter joking, _I stole his shield and he beat me up._

He didn't realize what that meant until now.

He was so used to seeing Captain America as a picture in his history books, or a press release image, or a dork on the school's crappy TV screens. He was a war hero, and a Hero of New York. Even if the school's videos were stupid, the guy himself was still an Avenger. And then Ned's best friend got to meet him!

Except not quite.

Because behind Captain America was Captain Rogers.

Staring down at Peter slumped and bleeding and half-asleep - half- _dead_ \- against his side, Ned felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

Peter wasn't beaten up by a derp from their school's stupid PSA videos. He was beaten up by a veteran supersoldier with years of combat experience, enhanced strength, and advanced speed. Peter could only match up, at _best_ , to two of those.

Ned must've seen the footage of Spider-Man in Berlin over a dozen times by now. But this was the first time it occurred to Ned what trying to fight against someone like that would actually _feel_ like.

He'd been so caught up in how cool it was that Peter was Spider-Man, that this was the first time he thought about how much danger Peter was actually in. That _Spider-Man_ was actually in.

"I don't know how you deal with this stuff every week," Ned said, pulling Peter close to him again. "I still feel my heart pounding just from dealing with the Shocker-guy."

Peter's eyes snapped wide-open, and he bolted upright - only to grown and waver in his seat. Ned grabbed his shoulder as Peter clutched his midsection again.

"We webbed him to the bus!" Peter blurted out.

Ned froze, then looked into the distance. He couldn't see the actual damaged buses from here, but he could see the corner of the bus lot.

"You said that stuff dissolves in two hours," Ned said. "It's been a bit more than that. He's probably long gone."

Peter snorted. "We better hope the bus lot security cameras really are broken like everyone says they are."

"Why?" Ned asked. "You were wearing a mask."

Peter blinked at him. "But you weren't."

Ned winced at the reminder. "I mean...I was just defending myself-"

"That's not the problem," Peter said. "The problem is that Spider-Man talked to you, and then you went into the computer lab and helped him."

"...because Spider-Man couldn't find Peter Parker," Ned said, frowning. Wasn't that obvious?

Apparently not, if the confused way Peter was staring at him was anything to go by.

"I already told the entire gym class that you - Peter - know Spider-Man. And Liz is inside telling Flash that Spider-Man might only know about him because of you. So most of the school already knows that Peter Parker knows Spider-Man." Ned smiled, pulling Peter into his side again, and trying not to wince at how Peter slumped against him. He wasn't holding himself up at all, and given this guy could literally walk up a wall, all the reasons for it terrified Ned. But he did his best to keep the fear out of his voice as he explained the alibi to Peter. "But Spider-Man stole Flash's car and phone, and talked to me. Because he couldn't find you, because you were puking your guts up in the bathroom."

Peter blinked, like he couldn't believe it.

With a wan smile, Ned said, "I had some time to think about it when Ms. Warren was yelling at me. I had like a dozen ideas before I knew you were even coming back." Giving Peter's shoulders a gentle squeeze, he said, "I'm your guy in the chair, remember?"

Laughing hoarsely, Peter pressed his forehead against Ned's neck. He looked into the distance and said, "I guess we're about to have a better idea of what kind of alibi to go with."

Ned followed his line of sight to see the girls coming back, Liz weaving between the other kids. Michelle followed her without looking up from her phone.

As they approached, Ned called out, "What did Flash say?"

"He lost his shit when he saw the picture of what Spider-Man did to his car," Michelle said, with a wicked smile.

Liz rolled her eyes, reclaiming her seat by Peter. Ned relinquished his barely-conscious friend to her grasp. "He was freaking out, so I pointed out that Spider-Man needed it to save the city from another 9/11. He calmed down after that."

Michelle held out her phone and said, "I got a picture of his face when Liz said Spider-Man probably only knew his name because of Peter."

Ned and Peter peered down at a picture of what looked like Flash having sucked a lemon and getting constipated at the same time. One of his eyes was actually twitched halfway shut, his mouth contorted in horror.

"That is a glorious picture," Ned said, with a grin. "Please tell me you're gonna share it?"

Without a word, Michelle tapped on the corner of her screen to show they were already viewing it online, complete with a caption.

_Flash finds out how Spider-Man knew his name: @Peter Parker_

He looked over at Peter, only to see him staring a little dumbfounded at the caption.

"Relax," Liz said. "I doubt Flash is going to sue you or anything over this."

Peter's eyes widened, and Ned winced. That hadn't occurred to him, and it was no surprise that it hadn't occurred to Peter. Liz looked at him oddly, then with a sigh, pulled Peter close like Ned had been doing just a few moments before.

"Seriously," Liz said. "He's not gonna give you a hard time over this, he loves Spider-Man too much."

Ned snorted.

"And if he does?" Liz continued. "Let me know. I'll deal with it, this time."

Peter leaned back a little to look her in the eye. Ned wanted to inch away as he realized something was going on between them, that there was a conversation happening without words right in front of him.

With a grateful whine, Peter leaned into Liz's side again, and she smiled.

Ned turned away before smiling, too. _Girls._

For the next ten minutes, Michelle continued to obsessively scroll and tap around on her phone. She'd started to update them, but Liz took one look at Peter's face and asked her to save it for later.

Ned leaned over to look at her phone, though, as Liz and Peter cuddled in silence.

The more he read, the harder it was not to cry or scream or drag Peter to the nearest ER. There were reports of the explosion of the plane hitting the beach. His fingers dug into stone when he saw distant helicopter pictures of the destroyed plane. There were no bodies, neither the Vulture nor Spider-Man, and those were the only two bodies that would've been found in the wreckage of a self-piloted plane crash. However, there was some distant shot on Facebook of the plane after it hit the beach, and a tiny winged figure hovering right above the plane trying to move a box. Then an ABC 7 LiveStream from a helicopter camera showed a ton of crates stacked up right by the plane - webbed together.

Ned looked away, then, before he caved into the desire to grab Peter by the shoulders and demand _what the hell Peter what the everloving-_

He took a deep breath, and another, and tried not to cry in relief when he saw a familiar car approaching them.

"Hey," he said to Peter. "Your aunt's here."


	3. Chapter 3

When Tony landed on the beach by Coney Island and tumbled out of his suit, the first thing he shouted as soon as he saw Happy was, "What the _hell_ happened here?!"

"It would appear that the jet containing the sensitive Avengers equipment has crashed," Vision answered as he landed.

"Yeah, I got that much, J!" Tony snapped. At the slight look of hurt on his face, though, Tony sighed. He hoped Vision understood his silent apology as well as JARVIS used to as he turned to Happy. "But _how_?"

The look on Happy's face was the exact opposite of his name. Eyes tight and mouth set in a grim line, he tilted his head and gestured for Tony to follow him. In the midst of all the flaming wreckage stood a pile of crates held together with...

"Is that webbing?" he asked, gut sinking right through the superheated sand.

"Yup," Happy said, and pointed to a specific spot on the crates. No, to a sign on the crates.

"'Found the flying Vulture guy', signed 'Spider-Man'," Tony read aloud, mostly because he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "'P.S.'," he continued reading. "'Sorry about your plane'?!"

Tony stared between Happy and the sign, stilll not quite processing it.

"I'm still trying to figure out what's going on," Happy said, holding out his tablet. "Because according to all our trackers, the plane is still fine and on-course. Best guess is that the signal was cloned, somehow, and something else is transmitting it."

Tony stared down at the map and the cheery symbols of the plane on course, in complete defiance of the wreckage around them.

"I shall go intercept it," Vision offered. "And retrieve whatever device is being used."

"Thanks, J," Tony said. As Vision flew off, Tony continued staring - this time, between the tracking display currently lying to him, and the handwritten sign currently _mocking_ him.

"He didn't listen to a goddamn word I said," Tony finally declared.

"Mm-hmm," Happy hummed in agreement, taking back his tablet from Tony's shaking grip. "And a good thing, too - he just saved our asses a hundred times over."

"Where the hell is he, then?" Tony demanded, as Happy started tapping away at its surface. "Because footage went up in minutes and - Happy, he was in those damn pajamas!"

Happy froze, not realizing that until right now. With wide-eyes, he whirled around, taking in the plane, the beach, and looking up into the sky that the plane must've fallen from. "Shit!"

"Exactly!" Tony cried out. "So _where is he_?"

"I don't know," Happy admitted, getting as pale as the first time he tried to box after the Chinese Theater explosion. "I tried calling him as soon as I landed here, but no answer on his phone." He frowned in thought. "A friend of his called me earlier tonight..." He sighed. "Probably trying to warn me."

"Why the hell didn't you listen?" Tony demanded.

Happy leveled him with one of his most unimpressed glares.

"...point taken," Tony admitted. Clenching his fist and trying not to imagine Peter in that pathetic excuse of a suit in the middle of all this, Tony said, "Try them both again."

Happy nodded, pulling out his phone with his thumb and ready to dial - only to pause at something on his screen. With a frown, he handed Tony the tablet as he thumbed through his phone.

Then he paled even more at what he saw. He looked almost as white as his shirt, staring at his phone.

"What?" Tony demanded.

"...I just got an update from Peter's friend," Happy croaked. With a rough swallow, he added, "But I don't think he wants to talk to us."

"What, why?" Tony demanded.

Without a word, Happy turned his phone around for Tony to see.

It was a picture of Peter, one which made Tony's stomach sink right through the fire-glassed sand and down to the core of the earth itself.

The boy sat on the bottom bunk of his bed, stripped down to nothing but his boxers and his bruises.

His skin looked like more of it was purple than not, ranging from the greenish tint of healing bruises to the splotches of what might be bruising and some of which might've been broken bone - especially the nearly-black patch of skin over a small dip in his rib cage. There was another equally dark spot of bruising on his upper left arm, and his entire right shoulder looked inflamed and swollen. He was surrounded by a small sea of bloodied towels, and-

"Is he _stitching himself up_!?" Tony screeched. "How does he even know how to do that?"

"He hasn't always had your suit," Happy said, voice so low that Tony almost didn't hear him over the commotion and the last of the flames and the plane crumbling.

Tony shut his eyes. "And he didn't have it now," he repeated.

"...no."

Opening his eyes again, Tony looked back at the picture. There were scrapes all over his body. There was a gash stitched up on one arm, and he was working on one on his leg - ignoring one on his abdomen, or hadn't gotten around to it, yet.

Peter's healing factor meant none of them would scar and they'd be gone soon enough. But they still needed time to heal, and could heal wrong if not treated right.

And Peter had been hurt often enough that he knew how to treat everything right.

Most striking, though, wasn't any of the bruising, the hints of broken bone, the gashes or the scrapes or the blood or-

Or.

No, most striking was the body language.

Even after facing off against half the Avengers, Tony had never seen Peter look so...exhausted. Defeated. _Hurt._ Just hours after the fight in Berlin, Peter had been jumping around his hotel room in excitement.

Tony didn't think it was even possible for Peter to be listless in defeat like that. Yet here was photographic evidence of it.

"What did his friend say?" Tony demanded. "When he sent the picture?"

"Nothing," Happy said pointedly. Tony frowned, looking up at him. "They're teenagers. Excitable teenagers, even when they were calling me earlier. But right now? Peter's friend sent this without a goddamn word. You think he wants to talk to us?"

Tony swallowed. He remembered how he felt when he watched Happy in a hospital bed after the theater explosion in L.A. He remembered how he felt when Pepper was laid out in an explosion-proof treatment room as he tried to clear the last of Extremis out of her. He remembered how he felt seeing Rhodey staring at his motionless feet after he got partially paralyzed in Berlin.

He remembered how they looked, he remembered his own helplessness and fury, and he remembered the darker moments where he wanted nothing more than for the rest of the world to feel the way he did.

"No," Tony answered. "I don't."


	4. Phones

“What the hell is this crap made out of?” Schultz asked, brushing off the last of the webbing **Adrian** had just cut him out of. In the distance, the faint sound of terrible teenage music seemed to briefly spike in volume — doors were opening, which meant it wouldn’t be long until kids started venturing out here to the bus lot.

“No idea,” Adrian answered.

He pocketed the knife, checked to make sure their masks were still on, then started off toward the gate at a brisk pace. Keeping their heads down, ducking between shadows, and taking the most circuitous route imaginable, it took them almost half an hour to get back to the car, where Mason waited for them.

“Okay,” Adrian said, sliding into the driver’s seat as Schultz practically threw himself into the back seat. “You were right. _Now_ , you can run.”

He watched in the rearview mirror as Schultz and Mason shared a look.

“…and deprive myself the opportunity to say ‘I told you so’?” Schultz finally asked, with a smile. He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What the hell happened?” Mason asked, face lit up by the tablet in his lap and the one street light from the mouth of the alley they were parked in. “With Spider-Man?”

“I was in the van when boss said he got the chance to talk to Spider-Man,” Schultz said, leaning back in his seat with an exhausted slump. “Something about a thank you for saving Liz, giving Spider-Man one chance to walk away and forget all about us. He chose wrong.”

Adrian sighed, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. “He knows who I am. He can turn me in, turn us all in — but he’s giving _us_ one chance to walk away from the business without doing that.”

The car was so quiet, Adrian had to check to make sure his last two men were actually _breathing_.

“…are we gonna?” Schultz asked.

“I don’t see much of a choice,” Adrian muttered. He looked over to Mason, and at the tablet in his lap. “How do things look for us?”

Mason winced. “All of the other weapons and alien materials are gone, so long as we can either get rid of or explain away the last pair of vulture wings in the warehouse, we’ll be in the clear. As far as the police will know, Vulture and Spider-Man duked it out and it just so happened to be at our spare warehouse.”

As the gentle tapping on the tablet screen continued, Adrian actually looked away, toward the mouth of the alley.

Where his Gumdrop was waiting for him.

Probably waiting for him _with_ Spider-Man.

He turned back to the men. “We’ve been pretty good about making sure the laundered money matched what the front business was supposed to be doing. Official salvage has been on decline, we’ve sold off most of the administrative assets…cleaning up the last of the money will take a while, but with nothing else, we’ve got a few months’ savings.”

“Thanks,” Schultz said, with a genuinely grateful nod. “But what are we actually going to _do_ , now? Just go back to actual salvage for good? Get back into the business with Spider-Man hot on our asses?”

Clenching his teeth, Adrian started the car. “I don’t know, yet,” Adrian said. “I’ll figure something out, just give me some time.” He pulled out of the alley, and started down the street, toward Brooklyn. “We need to get to the warehouse, ASAP. First responders are all going to be so tied up with the beach, so we’ve got a little time and wiggle room to get rid of the wings.” His tightened his grip as they approached a red light, knuckles turning white. “Hopefully, Toomes’ Construction Salvage is just…having a slump, for a while now, and needs to recover from the sudden asset loss.” He snorted. “Who knows, maybe building insurance will even cover vigilante nonsense and we can get a pay-out.”

The boys snorted at that, as Adrian slowed down, scanning the crowd of teenagers for-

“By the way,” Mason said, holding up Adrian’s phone. “Your daughter’s been texting you-”

“ _What_ have I said about checking my private messages?” Adrian grumbled, clinging to the shred of normalcy.

Schultz, with his usual disregard for Adrian’s privacy, leaned forward. “What’s she been texting?”

Here, Mason grinned. “She wants to know what you said to her date.”

He already told them he knew who Spider-Man was. They would ask, sooner rather than later, and it would save Adrian a lot of trouble down the road if he didn’t try to keep secrets from them, if he just told them the truth right now.

But as much as Mason and Schultz were Adrian’s oldest friends, practically family…once upon a time, he trusted Brice, too.

And that idiot went off the rails, ignored everything Adrian drilled into him for sustaining their business, and ultimately was the one who landed them in this hot water to begin with.

Adrian had to kill one man already — he wasn’t sure he could do it again. Especially not to men he actually cared about.

“…I may or may not have showed him my gun — the licensed one,” Adrian answered. “And told him not to show her _too_ good of a time.”

Like the familial traitors they were, both men burst out laughing.

“Sh-she…” Mason started between chortles. He directed his attention to Schultz. “She says he left his phone in here?”

Right.

His daughter’s date left the phone that his enemy used to track his car and follow him to their last warehouse.

A phone that Schultz, after a minute of patting around the back seat footwells, held up with triumph. “Damn,” he said, inspecting the phone. “Kid’s really done a number on this thing.”

Did Peter take the phone with him, when he was being Spider-Man? If he did, it was a miracle the phone was even in one piece.

"I'm not sure what Liz sees in him," Adrian muttered, glancing at the cracked scene of Peter's phone without really seeing it. He wondered if his wings had this many cracks, now. “It took him two minutes just to put her corsage on.”

"Well, look on the bright side," Mason said. Adrian glanced at him, before turning his attention to street signs, driving as fast as possible without attracting attention to them.

"What bright side?" Adrian asked.

"If the kid took two minutes just to put a corsage on,” Mason said slyly. “Then he's probably not going to have any luck with bra straps anytime soon.”

Schultz burst out laughing, and Adrian groaned.

He hated to admit this, but he was pretty sure Mason had a point.

(God, he hoped so. What were those suits made out of, anyway? Hopefully whatever the exact opposite of a bra strap was.)

~*~

After hanging up on one, ignoring the other, and generally brushing off both, Happy had no delusions about how much the teenagers would want to talk to them. But they still needed statements, they needed to know what happened, and he'd sent a text asking Peter's friend about it — Edward Leeds, according to a few quick searches. Happy had expected to be able to set up a time to talk, or at worst that he'd be told directly to screw off.

He wouldn't even blame them. He wouldn't be able to _listen_ to them, either, but he wouldn't blame them for trying.

What he hadn't expected, though, was for them to start _texting_ him a statement.

“Seriously?” Tony asked, groaning from the plus hotel bed he’d collapsed into twelve hours after the Quinjet crashed.

_That_ was about three hours ago. They were supposed to get at least another hour of sleep before heading back to the beach.

The chime after chime of the kids’ texts woke them both up.

“Seriously,” Happy grumbled, squinting at the phone “Kids really don’t waste time, do they?”

Tony buried his face back in his pillow.

Happy would give it five…four…three…two…one-

“What’s he saying?”

They both needed sleep — between moving day, the crashed Quinjet, and dealing with the alphabet soup of law enforcement and military intelligence agencies swamping the beach, they were at their wits’ ends when they needed to be at their sharpest.

With a sigh, Happy parsed through the kids’ barrage of text messages, trying to simplify the previous nights’ events as much as possible for Tony.

“The kid recognized the Vulture’s van, on his way to the school dance,” Happy finally answered. “Followed the van to a warehouse, tried to stop the Vulture there, but…”

Happy felt the blood freeze in his veins at the description.

Tony looked up. “Happy?”

“He…the Vulture…” For a moment, Happy was glad he didn’t have super-strength — he would’ve broken the phone with how tightly he was holding it. “The Vulture collapsed the building on top of Peter. He had to dig himself out of the rubble.”

The strangled noise Tony made was barely human. Happy couldn’t even bear to look at Tony’s face at that.

Goddamnit, they’d _called him_. They’d called him to try and warn him and he hung up on him and Peter went through all this-

“He dug himself out of the rubble and what, _continued_ chasing after the Vulture?!” Tony demanded.

Happy continued to skim the rest of the messages.

“…yeah,” he finally reported. “Pretty much.”

“We owe him,” Tony muttered, rolling over to pull a pillow over his face, even as he blindly groped for his own phone.

“ _Big time_ ,” Happy agreed.

“I gotta get the paperwork started,” Tony muttered. “Making him an Avenger — well, technically he’d be an Avenger cadet, least until he’s eighteen, but it’s not like anyone’s gonna care about the difference. Finalize the new suit, get a press conference going-”

“Will that work?”

Happy had muttered the question to himself rhetorically, but Tony froze anyway.

“…what?”

Since the kids’ texted statement seemed done for now, Happy finally set the phone down, sinking back into the bed. He was probably ruining the suit he’d been too tired to change out of, but at this point he couldn’t care less.

“After everything he’s been through — you really think this is what the kid wanted?”

“You’re the one who’s been _getting_ his text messages, don’t tell me you haven’t read them!” Tony snapped, typing furiously on his phone. “The kid’s been dying to be an Avenger. He’s earned it ten-fold by now, he damn well deserves it.”

Happy recognized that bright glint in Tony’s eye, so he didn’t try to dissuade him further.

“If you say so,” Happy mumbled, paper-dry eyelids already sinking for a last few minutes’ sleep. Just before he drifted off into anxious slumber, he mumbled, “I hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, today, so I'm celebrating with an update! ♥

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to have a penchant for superpowered teenagers and outsider POVs.
> 
> You can [reblog this fic on Tumblr](http://nyxelestia.tumblr.com/post/163400999105/crash-landing-nyxelestia-spider-man), or just come say hi! ^_^


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